Post Traumatic Strep
by binkeybella
Summary: Gibbs deals with an unwell SFA a few months after his bout with the plague. This is a birthday fic for Velveteen Habit, Happy Birthday, VH! And it's yet another Tony-gets-sick-while-Gibbs-is-being-mean-to-him fic. AU, as Kate is still alive and kicking and McGee hasn't joined the team yet. No slash, Father/Son
1. Chapter 1

**This is a birthday present for Velveteen Habit! Enjoy, VH! (This story is AU – after SWAK, but Kate is alive and well.**)

It was one of those days when DiNozzo had to keep telling himself that he was an adult, and as an adult, there was no reason to get his feelings hurt by his boss being short-tempered and grouchy boss.

He should be used to it by now, he'd been working for the man close to four years, but for some reason today just wasn't a good day to be the man's scapegoat for whatever had him rattled. He didn't feel good, hadn't since last night, and it made him whiny and want to just lie down and take a nap.

"These need double checkin'." Gibbs ordered, slamming a pile of files down on Tony's desk. "Kate did most of 'em, just need you to sign off on 'em."

Tony cleared his throat without looking up at his boss, and swallowed back a retort.

"Got a problem with bein' SFA today, DiNozzo? Cause I can take care of it now, and you won't be tomorrow."

"No, Boss. No problem." Tony assured quietly. But there _was _a problem. 'A big ole stick up Gibbs' butt' problem.

Gibbs grabbed his suit coat and coffee and breezed through the bullpen, but not before stopping in front of his second's desk. He had been noticing the off-color of Tony's face and the way the younger man had been avoiding looking him in the eye. The kid was hiding something, and he didn't like it, it put him off his game, and he was already feeling wrong-footed lately.

"You feelin alright, Tony?" Gibbs asked with what looked suspiciously like concern in his recently stormy eyes.

_What the...from zero degrees to humid in the span of thirty seconds? _ Tony huffed a disbelieving grunt, and went back to his files.

"Jus' peachy, Boss. Thanks for askin'." His voice squeaked on the last word, betraying his scratchy throat, and he cleared it again and took a swig of lukewarm tea to try to ease it. Fat chance. It felt like he was swallowing glass, even with the tea. He hoped none of his sarcasm had leaked through along with the squeak. All day long he had felt ragged, and hot, and achy and...now it was almost 18:00 hours and Gibbs was finally noticing? Well, to be fair, how could his boss have possibly known he was too warm, or his entire body ached, or that he just wanted to go lie down and take a nap?

"I'm goin' down to see Ducky, come on with me, he can give you some aspirin er somethin;."

"Boss, I just wanna finish these and go home..."

"With me, DiNozzo, _now!"_ Gibbs bellowed, rousing Tony from his stupor and making him knock his keyboard onto the floor.

_Okay, back to the 'Arctic Gibbs', _he grumbled to himself, but followed the man after righting his computer equipment.

The elevator ride was silent, at least it seemed that way to Tony. His ears were kind of stuffed up, too, probably one reason why his boss had become short-tempered with him – the man hated having to repeat himself; saying things once was bothersome enough. But Gibbs heard more than he wanted to – a decided wheezing coming from his SFA that he hadn't noticed before. _Christ_. How long had the kid been doing _that?_ His mind raced with the past few days activities. Had he let Tony work in the rain without thinking? No, he couldn't remember any rain. It had been on the cool side, but not damp. He didn't recall DiNozzo taking any swims trying to retrieve a suspect or evidence and inhaling any water.

What the hell?

"You let Ducky look you over once we get there." he ordered, still looking straight ahead.

"Boss, I -"

"Not up for vote, _or_ discussion. Yer wheezin' like you just ran a marathon."

_He was wheezing? God, when had that started? Great. Why not just admit yourself to the hospital now and get it over with?_

"Boss, I - don't think I can go through that again."

"Wont' have to." Gibbs stated matter-of-factly. "Just a cold, need some decongestant and some sleep."

In all truthfulness, Gibbs knew he was talking out of his ass. He had no idea whatsoever if Tony just had a 'cold'. After his SFA had decided to join the living and come home from the hospital, Gibbs had all but held the kid hostage in his house to make sure he didn't do anything stupid that would cause him to have a relapse. Only Ducky had known Gibbs' stark terror of losing Tony to the plague, and he swore as long as he lived, no one ever would. He would pace the kitchen floor while Ducky sat patiently at the table, waiting, listening, reassuring the man that DiNozzo had defied the odds and turned the corner of the grim prognosis.

**FLASHBACK**

"_He sounds horrible, Ducky, how can you say he's fine?"_

"I **did not **say he was fine, Jethro, I said he had turned the corner and was out of the woods. Providing he keeps himself warm, dry and out of the water, he should, miraculously, go on to greater things."

This was the first time Gibbs had had a chance to vent, really vent, over the past couple week's harrowing ordeals of spiked fevers, hallucinations, strange drug reactions, and DiNozzo nearly drowning in his own fluids. He remembered how terrified he'd been when Kelly had been little and battling the croup one night, her frightened crying and gasping for air, and he and Shannon struggling to calm her. Fear and crying made the symptoms worse for her, and he'd sat on the edge of the tub cradling her little body to his chest for almost fifteen minutes while the shower ran at its hottest and steamed the small bathroom like a sauna until she could breathe easier again.

_He couldn't hold Tony like that, and his condition had been worse than the croup, robbing him of breath to the point of panic attack, and then having to be given a sedative and an oxygen mask. Hour after hour, day after day it had gone on, until Gibbs thought Tony would give up and die just out of sheer exhaustion. Gibbs was exhausted himself, but he had work to do, and that was to be a combination of coach, drill instructor, and all around pain in the ass until DiNozzo was so sick of **him, **_

_that he would rise from near death just to be able to throttle his boss for all the harassment the man had dished out to him. In the end, Tony had survived, only to be brought back to Gibbs' place, weak as a kitten, for more TLC, Gunny style. Kate and Abby had despaired at the man's gruff bedside manner, but his gut told him he was giving Tony exactly what he needed, and to coddle him the way they did was the last thing the young man wanted from him. Gibbs kept DiNozzo from doing more than he was capable of just to prove himself, and bullied him into doing the less mundane things, such as eating an entire sandwich at a meal, and going to bed before he got over-tired and then couldn't sleep. Life had been fractious in the House of Gibbs, but fractious was better than the abysmal grief of loss, so Gibbs endured, and consequently, so did his SFA._

Now he was looking at the possibility of repeating those weeks, and like DiNozzo, he just wasn't sure if he had it in him. Ducky had warned him that there was a chance for Tony to relapse even months after recovery, and here they were, on their way down to the M.E as if it were just another visit, as if Gibbs merely wanted the man's opinion on a cold case autopsy. Making things worse, he had been unmercifully nasty to the younger man from the very start of their day, wrapped up in the grip of sad memories that DiNozzo had inadvertently and unknowingly triggered with a look, a flash of a smile along with a request for a hot chocolate with mini-marshmallows. His eyes weren't the same color as Kelly's, but his taste in drinks and the pleading, hopeful grin when he'd asked for it had matched her perfectly.

So he had taken it out on Tony for reminding him of his treasured, deceased daughter, because Gibbs had finally, _finally _been able to find a long stretch of days when no one said, did, or liked anything his baby girl had. And he had liked it, a lot. He never, _ever _wanted to forget the child who was so precious to him, but he wanted to think of her on his own terms, when he was strong enough. Drunk enough. Not get blown sideways in the middle of a case. And he had taken it out on him because he knew he could, that the kid would let him go at him all day long until Tony shut down and totally ignored the man unless it was to respond to him in a clipped, tense yes or no, or sometimes just an impatient grunt.

Times like this, Gibbs wondered if he had hired Tony just to have someone who would finally take the crap he dished out and still come back to work the next morning. Then he'd start feeling guilty about that, and that would make him even more short-tempered. And so the vicious cycle went.

All this because Tony had asked for mini-marshmallows, without ever knowing what he'd done 'wrong'.

Once in Ducky's tender care, Gibbs had stepped back and feigned indifference, closely examining x-rays on the wall as if he actually understood what he was looking at. He heard the M.E ask Tony to breathe deeply, and the harsh, hacking bark that had followed, and he cringed inside his brown plaid suit coat, closing his eyes. As if he could block out the memories that sound caused by closing them.

There was subtle murmuring and discussing between the patient and doctor, and more coughing after another deep breath. Ducky left Tony's side to retrieve some bottled water, and Gibbs took the moment to look over at his second. A pasty, slightly frightened face looked up at him, then quickly away, and Gibbs sighed. It didn't look hopeful, he thought.

"Here you are, Anthony, drink as much of it as you can after you take these. I'll have Mr. Palmer run the samples to Abigail, she'll be instructed to analyze them post haste. We should know something in an hour or so. In the mean time, why don't you go lie down on my office couch, you should start feeling the effects of the pills within a few minutes." He assisted Tony off the metal table, and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze. "All will be well, Anthony, you will see." he assured him in a soft voice beyond Gibbs' hearing. He waited for Tony to shamble off to the little room before turning to the other waiting man.

"And what may I do for you, Jethro?" he asked pleasantly enough, though he hardly felt that way at the moment.

"You can tell me what's going on with Tony, has he got the plague again?"

The M.E stood his ground against the force to be reckoned with, but the friend in him understood Gibbs' fire. Incorrigible as the Senior agent was when it came to thinking before acting concerning Tony's feelings, he knew that the man was in over his head with his own feelings about Tony. As much as Gibbs had liked Stan Burley, the younger man had been able to keep work and emotions separate, and his boss was more than happy to follow suit. Then Anthony had come along and blown that set-up right to hell with his damaged-child - swaddled – in - a – titanium - blanket aura and triggered a long dormant gene in Gibbs that he couldn't seem to turn off, no matter how irritated or uncomfortable it made the older man. Tony himself was not that thrilled with the situation, having never had anyone so fiercely protective of him, and it took him awhile to get used to opening himself up to that sort of treatment – trusting male authority figures came hard to him, not made any easier by some less than upstanding bosses when he was a beat cop and then a detective.

But that didn't stop Gibbs from pulling the papa bear card on him, as Abby loved to tease. In fact, DiNozzo presented a particular challenge for him, and the former Marine Gunny had made it his mission to win that particular battle. Even if he lost the war in the end by letting himself get too emotionally invested in the kid.

"I _don't know, _Jethro, that remains to be seen. While not highly probable, it is highly _possible. _And I'll not stand here and give details you 're not privy to. Suffice to say that that boy should be home sleeping and drinking plenty of fluids, at the very least."

"And at the most?"

Ducky knew what Gibbs was asking. Were they destined to have another agonizing go – round in Bethesda with a medieval bug that had no business still being in existence, let alone wreaking havoc in his SFA's lungs?

"We shall take it one step at a time, Jethro."

"I swear I didn't make 'im work in the rain or cold, Ducky, and he hasn't fallen into any water that I know of."

"Relax, Jethro, I doubt it was anything you did or didn't do. The air is rife with all manner of germs this time of year, he could have merely contracted a simple rhino virus. Abigail's tests should confirm or deny, and we will work from there. If Anthony was run-down or under undue stress, it would be much easier for him to be susceptible to viral infections. It seems that whatever it is, it was caught in its early stages, and will therefore make things easier on all of us. Go now, I'll keep an eye on him and let you know when the test results are done. I'll of course first discuss them with Anthony, and what he chooses to share with you, I will relay the information as soon as I'm able."

Lost in thought, he stared into space for a while longer before turning towards Ducky's small office and watched the sleeping figure curled up on the too-small couch.

"It'll be a battle royal getting him back to the hospital if he has to go." he told the M.E quietly as he gazed at Tony.

"He will go where you tell him to go, Jethro." Ducky replied sotto voce. "And I will not send him there unnecessarily as you well know. Let him sleep here for a while while Abby runs the his tests."

Gibbs nodded, turned on his heel, and strode out of the lab, and the M.E sighed heavily, a bit apprehensive himself as to what the next several days would bring. He had spent nearly as much time at Tony's side as Gibbs had during the dreadful plague recuperation, and shuddered to think of having to witness that sort of suffering for the young man and his boss again. Well, there was nothing for it that was what ailed the agent, they would have no choice but to suffer through it again. Shaking his head, he returned to his work, and kept an ear out for any sounds of distress from Tony.

Less than fifteen minutes later, Gibbs was coming back through the door, loaded down with a cardboard container of pastries, hot drinks and file folders. He opened a box of donuts for Ducky to choose from, handed him a steaming cup of his favorite tea just the way he liked it, and retreated with the rest to the little office to join his sleeping SFA. Very quietly he parked himself in the small armchair across from the couch, and made to wait for Tony's test results with a couple of fresh 'brews' and some crullers. He tried to relax a little, knowing that the situation was under control now, and Ducky would know what to do. A situation, he reminded himself once again, was steeping right under his nose and he was too busy being a jerk to notice. He took a slug of coffee and leaned back in the chair to peruse the files, but ended up instead simply watching his second sleep. Another half hour later, and Ducky came to the office door.

Gibbs stood up to go talk to him, but the M.E made his way into the cramped room instead.

"You might as well both hear this together, Jethro. Abby's tests show that it's not a relapse."

Tony's eyes blinked open as he heard Gibbs let go a loud, long-held breath.

"It _is _however, a very nasty case of streptococcal pharyngitis."

"Strep throat, Ducky?" Tony squeaked out, trying to rise to a sitting position on the couch and getting tangled in the afghan Gibbs had thrown over him.

"I was doubtful of it at first as strep symptoms normally do not include coughing, but I believe that in your particular case it's more likely to happen. You will get started immediately on a course of antibiotics for it, we will take no chances. Abigail is on her way now to retrieve them from the corner pharmacy. You will also take over-the-counter pain and fever reducers, which she is picking up along with the Amoxicillin. Plenty of rest; sleep, preferably, and as much liquid as you can tolerate to keep your respiratory system moving and loose. You will stay with Jethro until I say otherwise, or he will stay with you. It is for the two of you to work out."

If Tony had ideas of protesting any or all of what Ducky had just said, all thoughts of it left his head at the strange look his boss was giving him. And the fact that his throat hurt too damned much to say anything. He closed his eyes and slid back down onto the sofa pillow, and Gibbs once more arranged the afghan around him.

"That's it, Duck? No hospital check over or x-rays?"

"Not at this point, Jethro. Granted, this is serious enough, considering his recent history, but unless things worsen for him, he will just be miserable with his symptoms for a few days and it should run its course with the help of the penicillin."

Gibbs relaxed his shoulders a bit as he sat back into the armchair again, and the older man smiled at his visible relief.

"I will call you when he wakes up and you can take him home. I would arrange a few days off rotation if possible, none of you have had time off in weeks, and that in itself has contributed to his current state."

"Got it, Ducky. I'll go talk to Morrow, he'll be fine with it once I explain the situation. Have Abby call me when she gets back, I'll send her out for groceries, I'm down to crackers and beer."

The M.E shuddered at the last part of Gibbs' statement as the agent slipped past him to head back upstairs, but he knew that the Goth would do right by Tony and find just the right foods that she and Gibbs and Kate could force down the young man's sore throat.

-00-

Gibbs was just signing off on the last of his paper and computer work when his cell rang, with Ducky reporting that 'young Anthony' was awake and awaiting transport to his boss's couch. He snapped the cell closed and turned to Kate.

"We're done here, Tony's ready to go home."

"I'll stop by later, gotta run a few errands."

"Sounds good."

"You can't keep running him into the ground, Boss, this is from having no sleep for like, weeks."

"I know."

"And he was sick all day and you were still nasty to him."

"I know."

Gibbs knew she had been as worried about her partner's health situation as he had, and was determined to protect him even if it was from her own boss, so he let it slide, in fact, he was just a little bit proud of her for doing it.

"So you're gonna apologize to him for being such a bastard when you knew he didn't feel well."

"Don't push it, Kate."

"I'm just saying...we could _all _use some down time before we end up sick."  
"Taken care of." Gibbs stated smartly as he powered down his computer. "Off rotation for four days. Should be enough time for us to get DiNozzo back on his feet enough to pull desk duty."

"Four days? All of us?"

"You can thank Tony for that. Morrow about had a stroke when I told him the kid was sick again."

"Hmmff. Somehow I don't think he'll appreciate the gratitude." She grabbed her coat and purse and headed for the elevator. "I'll bring dinner."

"Abby's got it, I sent her for groceries."

"Great. I'll help _cook _dinner."

Gibbs smiled and caught up with her, thinking it was too bad it had taken the plague to get their odd little group to find how much they actually enjoyed each other's company. He'd even let the guy Tony called McGeek come to dinner with Abby a few times, and was considering utilizing the kid's mad computer skills if he could make some sort of arrangements with McGee's present field office.

Down at the M.E's lab, Abby was ecstatic to find out about the team's days off, and even though she wouldn't enjoy the same mini-vacation as them, she knew she would have a captive audience at Gibb's place when she was done with her work day.

"Take him home and put him on that atrocity you both call a sofa." Ducky ordered, handing Gibbs the bag of drugs from the pharmacy and a new bottle of water. "Start a fire in the grate, tuck him in, and let him sleep some more. He has already had some Amoxicillin, he should have some soup before he goes to bed for the night. He won't eat a lot, so don't try to force him to. Just make sure he keeps some sort of food and liquid in him or the meds will make him more nauseous than he is already."

Gibbs grabbed the bag and water bottle and stuffed them into his pocket, then gave Tony a light shove towards the door.

"I'll stop buy later to take his temperature and give him a general look over, Jethro. No detours on the way home, I want him put to bed straight away. It's where he should have been all day if either of you had had the sense that God gave geese."

The lead agent harrumphed as he guided an unusually quiet DiNozzo out the door and to the elevator, and vowed that from now on he would try to be more vigilant concerning his SFA's talent at hiding even physical symptoms so well. He had thought Tony had simply shut down from being the target of Gibbs' sour mood. Well, now his boss was paying for it by having to listen to Ducky, Abby and Kate's none-too-subtle accusations of mistreatment of their friend, besides feeling pretty guilty himself, which he would never admit to. And now he had to look forward to four days of down time keeping a grouchy and recalcitrant DiNozzo confined and properly fed and drugged, instead of being able to work on his boat like he had hoped to do during his next time off. Tony would call it instant karma. Gibbs just called it stupidity.

**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

_**Wow. What a response to a fluffy birthday fic! Thanks to all who favorited/followed and reviewed! Thanks also to the guest reviewer who quite rightly reminded me not have the crew have dinner together. I had thought about how contagious Tony was earlier and that they all may be in danger of contracting his crud, then forgot about it trying to finish the chapter! I also sort of fudged the symptoms of strepp for the sake of whumping Tony. As far as I've read, there's no coughing involved, but c'mon, we gotta have it for a post-SWAK story! Well, here's the next one. Have no idea if it's the last, we'll just have to wait and see! Not beta'd. Any goofs are mine! Enjoy!**_

They were half-way to Gibbs' place when he thought about what Kate had told him earlier in the bullpen – she was coming to make dinner. It had sounded good, and normal, at the time, but what were they thinking? He already had his hands full taking care of Tony, he wasn't about to have two of them sick on his watch, snarking and baiting each other because they didn't feel well, and well, because they could. And he got enough of that from them at work. He flipped open his cell and hit the second speed dial number; he'd grumbled when Abby had insisted on 'messing with his phone', as he'd put it, but had to admit that it was pretty darned handy.

"Yes, Gibbs." Kate's voice came through the speaker. He hesitated. It was hard to get used to the other person knowing who was calling them, besides the fact that it left out the element of surprise and stealth.

"Let's hold off on that dinner tonight, no use spreading any more germs around."

"Well, yeah, there's that. Truth is, we've already been exposed, we're either gonna get it or we're not."

"Maybe, but let's not tempt fate. Let's get some more antibiotics into him before we start having parties, Ducky can't handle all of us getting sick."

"Made sure I didden cough on anyone, Boss." a half-awake Tony informed him across the seat.

"Yeah, I'm sure ya _did, _DiNozzo. Talk to ya later, Agent Todd." He pocketed the phone one-handed, not caring if he left Kate in the lurch on the other end. He knew she was used to it by now. Well, being _used _to something and _liking _it were two totally different animals, an inner voice chided. Sort of like the sniping he had dished out all day to his second. If he were admit it, even to _himself, _well, there were other reasons he had taken his nastiness to new heights, but he wasn't going to visit them now. Traffic was getting heavy, and he'd be damned if he sat in a traffic jam with a sick DiNozzo. Swerving around an Anal Andy, as Tony lovingly called them, he barreled off at the next exit and got them home before Tony roused again.

When he cut off the engine in his driveway, Tony stirred and rubbed his face, looking a little out of it, but not so that he didn't know where he was. Blinking, he fumbled for the door handle and let himself out, but waited for Gibbs to get out of the car before heading to the house. There was no way he was going to stumble on something in the near dark and do a face plant on Gibb's blacktop. Gibbs seemingly read his mind and met him in front of the car, tugging at his sleeve to urge him to start walking.

Once in the house, Tony headed straight for the couch, as if on auto-pilot, and collapsed into it's squishy comfort.

" 'm tired, Boss." he sighed, and crashed down sideways onto the cushions.

Gibbs smiled at him, and set the bag of meds and water down on the coffee table.

"Let's get yer shoes off first, Tony. Don't need mud all over yer clothes."

"Want my p.j's." he croaked, barely over a whisper

"I'll get 'em." Gibbs told him patiently. "Shoes first." He tugged them off and threw them out into the foyer. Normally it was the first thing Tony did coming into his house, but it hadn't occurred to him tonight. "Stop talkin'. I'll bring ya what ya need."

"Head hurts." Tony whined, and Gibbs poured out a couple of Motrin and held them in front of his SFAs' face.

"Take these. And stop talking."

Tony sat up enough to dry swallow them and regretted it, nearly choking on them and starting to panic.

"Easy, kid, sit up." Gibbs ordered in a calm voice, but he was a bit panicked himself. He held the water bottle up to Tony's mouth and waited a moment. "Couple sips so ya don't choke on that, too. Breathe, Tony. This is about your throat, not yer lungs."

Tony wanted to scream at him.

"Easy - easy for - you to – say..." he gurgled, trying to keep the water down his rebelling esophagus.

"Yeah, it _is." _Gibbs stated flatly. "Not tryin' to torture ya, kid. Just tryin' to get you so you can sleep."

"Want my pajamas." Tony repeated quietly, but mutinously this time, and Gibbs still smiled, surprising even himself. "And that blanket off my – your - the guest bed."

"You okay now with the choking bit?" he asked, squeezing Tony's shoulder.

"Yeah." his SFA squeaked. "Dumb...dry swallowing." he swallowed hard, painfully. "Habit."

"Yup." Gibbs agreed. "Don't move till I get back. Two minutes. You're not on this couch when I get back, you don't get your blanket. I get the one I keep for me under the boat."

Tony scowled at him, but looked like he would obey. He knew exactly which blanket Gibbs was referring to, he called it his boss's horsehair rug. It couldn't, under any civil, conceivable circumstances, be considered a blanket. He'd accused Gibbs of bringing it back from 'the war – World War I,' and had gotten a good smack to the head for it, though he had seen a glint of amusement in the older man's eyes. The thing was coarse, like the rawest wool the weaver could find, and barely large enough to cover a body. Gibbs mostly used it to lie on, so it was never an issue for him, but still – who would even have a blanket like that around? Maybe it was Gibbs' grandfather's, or great - grandfather's and from the Civil War, and had sentimental value. At any rate, he didn't want it touching his body, so he stayed put while Gibbs was upstairs. Not that he felt like moving anyways.

True to his word, Gibbs was back in just a few minutes, blankets, pajamas and extra pillows in hand. He knew the routine now, after having Tony with him recovering from the 'P -Word' as Abby called it. And he had known what to do even before that tense time, having nursed his Kelly through several bouts of illness during her too-short life. DiNozzo turned out to be not much different than his daughter when it came to cranky behavior. A lot bigger in body, but the same in spirit – irritable and childish; neither took to being sick very well, and made their confinement a lot more difficult than it needed to be.

"Good boy, still there." Gibbs awarded the young man by tossing the requested blanket next to him and the pajamas on his lap. "Change into your pajamas, I'll get a fire going."

"Sorta like -" Tony croaked "Camping trip."

"No talking. Try drinking some water instead." God, Gibbs thought, if Tony being sick was hard on him, this must be downright torture for Tony, not being able to get entire sentences past his lips.

Tony gave in and changed into his pajamas, tossing his clothes into a heap on the floor and then turning to the bottled water, taking small, unsure sips out of it while Gibbs built a fire in the grate.

Eventually he laid down on his side and watched the wood burn, smelling the faint smoke and feeling the heat coming off the flames. It mesmerized him, and took his mind off how much his throat hurt.

If he'd been a kid, _and _not a DiNozzo, he would have been sobbing on Gibbs' couch, and the man would have been bringing him shaved ice or Popsicles and giving him hugs. The thought made him snicker, and he had to admit, this was sort of the next best thing. Gibbs gave him a questioning look, and was debating asking him what was so funny when Abby burst in the door.

"I'm gonna leave the groceries real quick and then run cause I don't wanna catch it cause I've had it and it and there's no way I want it again. Ducky gave both Kate and myself scripts for Amoxy in case we start getting sick, but he's still contagious till his own Amoxy kicks in – sorry, Tony boy, you know I love ya, but it makes my throat hurt just _thinking _of having it again. And I'm really sorry that you have it."

She looked at Gibbs and handed him three plastic bags full of groceries. "Try to imagine that every time you swallow, it feels like your throat is swollen shut with the sharpest, most pointy rocks sticking out of your entire throat. You can't even stand the thought of swallowing it's so painful. I brought lots of soups and yogurt and easy stuff to swallow. Stuff to make milkshakes, and Popsicles."

Tony snorted, and they could only wonder what part of all that Abby had just said that he thought was humorous.

"And Gibbs - " she lowered her voice so that he had to lean towards her. "It's gonna feel like he can't breathe sometimes, like – you know, when he was sick – before. He's gonna start getting scared so -"

"I know, Abs, already been through it, got it under control."

"Great! Okay, I'm gonna go bring in the rest of the groceries, then I've got a bowling date with Timmy."

"Timmy who?"

"Timmy! Tim McGee! You remember him! Out of the Norfolk office, he helped us with a couple cases last month."

"Yeah, I remember now, Tony called him McGoo so much I forgot his first name."

"McGeek, MaGoo, McTardy, Mc-whatever came to his head at the moment – Tim wasn't wild about that."

"Too bad for Timmy. He ever think of transferring to Cyber Crimes here, we could use someone you can get along with for figuring out – computer – stuff."

"Hmm, never thought to ask, I'll slip it by him tonight, let ya know. Take care of Sick Boy, I'll stop in again tomorrow sometime, call if you need me before that."

"Will do, Abs, see ya later."

Gibbs headed for the kitchen to stow the groceries, and brought back a grape Popsicle for his ailing charge, who was waiting expectantly for it.

"Abs – thinks of - everything."

"I told 'er to get 'em." Gibbs informed him.

Tony's eyebrows rose as he peeled back the paper and took a bite.

"What, you think I don't know what feels good on a sore throat?"

Tony wasn't sure how to answer that question, knowing _exactly _how Gibbs knew about Popsicles for throats.

"Ever – read the jokes – on the sticks, Boss? Got a favorite – well – two favorites. What animal..should you never...play cards with?"

Gibbs grimaced, wanting to tell him to shut up again, but instead he shrugged his shoulders.

"A cheetah."

Gibbs couldn't stop the grin that spread across his face from the lame quip, and it inspired yet another.

"Best one yet. What's the hardest thing about skydiving?"

Gibbs was silent, thinking back on a not - so - humorous situation involving DiNozzo and a parachute, but Tony wouldn't be put off.

"The ground, Boss." he croaked, laughing into his icy treat.

"Yeah. Real funny, DiNozzo. See me laughing?"

"Joke, Boss. Lighten up."

Gibbs glared at him, a real one meant to admonish.

"Did you see me laughin' when I was peelin' you off that muddy field, DiNozzo?"

"No, Boss." Tony whispered, his chin down. He remembered the sickly color of his boss's face when they'd gotten to the emergency room to x-ray and set his ankle, and the way the man kept his jaw clenched, breathing through his nose the entire time. And he had heard later, by way of Palmer, that as soon as they'd taken him in to set the bone, Gibbs had marched straight off a bathroom down the hall and vomited his day's meals and coffee.

"Finish yer Popsicle. I'll warm up some soup, what you don't eat, I will."

"Not hungry, Boss."

"I'll go warm up some soup." Gibbs repeated flatly as he headed to the kitchen. "What you don't eat, I will."

Tony sighed and finished up the grape treat and sighed to himself. The spell was already broken and he was barely into his forced recuperation with his boss. He always said the wrong thing but it was mostly because he didn't know what the right thing was to say, not because he was trying to get under someone's skin. He _always_ seemed to know what to say when he was actually _aiming _to tick someone off. It was casual conversation that confused him, and the art of knowing when to shut up. Well, this was the golden opportunity to cultivate that art, and he should have started the first time his boss told him to stop talking.

He took a swig of water to wash down the sugary goo, and decided to go see if he could at least help Gibbs with the soup. Washing and drying sticky hands, he perused the bags of groceries that Abby had brought and began putting some away. He'd spent enough time at the place to know where most everything was stored and Gibbs didn't turn around and slap him for doing it, so he kept at it, then folded the plastic bags neatly and stowed them in a drawer. His boss was still stonily silent, and it made Tony want to call a cab, put his shoes on, and go back to his place, even if he left wearing his p.j's. Gibbs' silence was tolerable for Tony when the man was in a normally decent mood. When his boss was pissed at him, it was like being crushed and smothered under black ice. Frozen out. Maybe it just reminded the younger man too much of his childhood. Whatever it was, whenever it happened, Tony's tolerance level of it was a bit on the slim side.

"I'll get Abby to - come get me and take me home." he rasped out.

"That's what you want, then, fine."

Wowser. All this from a stupid Popsicle stick joke. Alright then. He didn't want to leave, but he really didn't feel up to Gibbs' sudden turn of bullshit, so he headed back to the living room for his phone.

What the hell did he do with the stupid thing, it had been in his jean's pocket when he'd gotten there.

Starting to get frantic and more than a little frustrated, he didn't see the open water bottle until he'd knocked it over and spilled most of its contents on his boss's wood floor. _Great! Just effing great.._

he huffed under his breath, grabbing up his t-shirt from the floor to start sopping it up.

"Stop." came a growly voice above his head. "I'll get a mop."

"I got it, Boss, just -"

But Gibbs was gone again, and Tony simply sunk back onto his butt against the front of the couch and put his head in his hands. He was still too hot, and his throat was still like hot, broken glass was lodged there. He had tried so hard not to get sick again, couldn't stand the thought of going through anything like what he had at Bethesda. Most times he fluffed it off when someone asked him disbelievingly how he'd survived it, telling them he didn't dare do anything else with Gibbs constantly hovering around him. But sometimes he just didn't know how he'd made it through, because truth be told, there were times that it had been so exhausting and painful, he was ready for Ducky's tender ministrations on one of his autopsy tables. Every dark, awful thing that had happened to him revisited him during that time, every forgotten birthday, lonely Christmas, drunken slap and boarding school hazing came back to haunt him when he was least able to fight them off, making not just his body but his spirit a well of misery. It would have been so much easier to just let go.

"Shit." he whispered, barely audible, then started searching his pants pockets for his phone again.

Finally finding it, he punched in Abby's speed dial number, heard it ring a few times, then sank back into himself when her voicmail came on. "Shhhit." he repeated, and didn't even bother with a message. He tossed the phone aside and sighed, resting his head on arms folded across his knees.

"Shouldn'ta lost my temper with ya, Tony. Don't want ya to go back home."

"Then make up - yer mind, Gibbs! Don't be all - shitty to me if you – want me to stay!" Tony croaked out, sounding more like a frog than ever, then realizing he had just yelled at his boss. "Sorry. Tired. Don't feel good."

"I know, Tony."

"Scared."

_Yeah, me too, kid._

"I know."

"Don't wanna – have to go back to Bethesda."

"Ducky said the odds of you getting it again are pretty slim. But he warned us you'd be more susceptible to getting really sick than before."

"Sucks." Tony grunted into his knees.

"I know." Gibbs repeated quietly, and reached his hand down to his second. "C'mon, get up off the cold floor. Soup's ready."

"Don't be... mean to me. Just told a stupid joke." Tony groused, standing back up on slightly wobbly legs.

"I know. I let it get to me, shouldn't have. Still have nightmares about scraping you off that airfield if your chute hadn't opened."

"You and – me both."

"Alright, enough with the talkin', yer makin' _my _throat hurt just listening to ya. Try some soup, there's some Italian bread you can dip in it instead of crackers."

Tony tried a thankful smile, but his stomach was still topsy-turvy, and his falling out with Gibbs sure hadn't settled it any. He sat anyways, just to keep the peace, and let his boss ladle out a small portion for him into a soup bowl. Good old chicken noodle from their favorite deli. Well, maybe he_ could _ manage just a little. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Gibbs give him a lopsided, satisfied smile, and warmed up a little himself at his boss's gesture. Maybe he would actually survive the next few days after all.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: this is my third try at this chapter – hope this is the last! Thanks to all who took the time to review and favorite/follow. If I missed responding to anyone who reviewed, it wasn't intentional, just ran out of time. Not beta'd.

It had been a long, rough night for both of them, but Tony had finally fallen into a sleep deep enough to keep from waking in a panic thinking he was smothering to death. Part of it was from sheer exhaustion, the other part might have been from the shot of bourbon Gibbs had allowed him to drink after dinner to ease the constant tickle in his throat. They both knew Ducky would have never condoned it, but Ducky wasn't there, and Gibbs was tired of watching the kid suffer. He'd gone to the kitchen, searched a cupboard for a bottle of 'the good stuff' that Tobias Fornell had brought by last Christmas, and poured a healthy dose of it for his second. Tony didn't have to be told to sip the expensive liquor, he knew full well how to handle Macallen 18, and enjoyed it to the last drop in the quilted jelly jar.

"Nice – jar, Gibbs." he whispered, holding up the 'tumbler'. "Better quality than – a regular – jam jar. Fancier."

"Just shut up and drink it, DiNozzo." his boss grouched, with no real heat in his voice.

And Tony had, and at about one in the morning had all but passed out under the pile of blankets on Gibbs' couch, the fire in the grate still warming his head and calming him. Several hours later he emerged from his cocoon, bleary – eyed, but feeling better than he had in a while, and though his throat was still fairly raw, it didn't have quite the 'swallowing glass' feel to it that it had had the day before.

Raising himself to a sitting position on the couch, he focused his eyes until they landed on the figure in the arm chair kitty corner from him, and smiled as the coffee cup made its way to his boss' lips.

"You look like dog crap, DiNozzo." Gibbs informed him without ever looking up from his newspaper crossword. "Feel any better?"

"Thanks, Boss, and yes, I feel a little better. Throat doesn't feel like Cujo had his teeth in it anymore. Just sore and – hoarse."

"Cujo?"

"Saint Bernard. _Nasty _Saint Bernard."

"Breakfast?"

"Pancakes. Eggs. Got any tea?"

"Just what Ducky brought last time he was here. Which reminds me, bet he's on his way here now. Time to look chipper unless you wanna be drinking that Mallard Miracle Elixir he forced down Abby's throat last time she was sick."

"Oh God, that stuff was...eww..I could smell it on her as soon as I stepped into the lab."

"Don't be a brat if he offers it to you, just tell him you're feeling better and the antibiotics are all you need."

"I wouldn't hurt his feelings for the world, Boss, you know that." Tony quietly admitted. "He's the only one who..." Tony trailed off, looking off past Gibbs into the kitchen. "Nevermind, I'll let him down gently."

Gibbs studied his guest, who in turn had started to study his own fingers.

"Gonna make breakfast. I'll start with the tea, you can take your antibiotics with a piece of toast or something. Then you can go grab a shower."

"You know – you and Ducky – you're not like anyone I've ever known..I mean – neither is Abby, but – I've been friends with girls who think they need to mother me. I've never.." Tony stumbled on his words, but Gibbs waited patiently for him to find the ones he was looking for. "Guys have – always wanted something from me - either to introduce them to – pretty girls, or win a game for them, or – go undercover and - flush out the bad guys, and girls – I got lots of talent for lots of things, Boss, some of them not so good – and it always has felt like – that's all I was worth to them, just a tool to get what they wanted – once they got it, they moved on. You moving on, Boss? Cause Ducky never makes me feel like that. He makes me feel – like I'm really important to him."

"You _are_, Tony." Gibbs assured him. "He's never taken to any of my agents like he has to you, partly cause you make _him _feel important, too. You listen to him."

"Ducky has a lot to teach if you take the time to listen to him. You just have to filter out a lot of stuff. You know me, Boss, I'm the champion filterer."

"_Oh, yeah, _I do know that. And I'm not planning on going anywhere, DiNozzo, if anything, you'll want to move on from _me. _I know about your two-year track record."

Gibbs left his words at that, leaving Tony to decipher them however he would, and Tony headed for the stairs for his shower, then stopped when he got to the bottom of them, his head down as he inspected the smooth wood hand rail.

"I – seem to always wear out my welcome, Boss, it's just – something always happens and..next thing I know I'm packing boxes and driving away."

"Go grab your shower, we can talk about it later."

"How 'bout we talk about it never?"

"You think if you don't talk about it it won't happen again?"

"Don't know what I think anymore, Boss, it's just – a real sore subject for me, especially after Baltimore."

"Yeah. Okay, up to you." Gibbs gave his shoulder a squeeze. 'Go on, I'll go make breakfast, you eat what you can."

Tony nodded without looking at his host, and headed up to take his shower. Somewhere in between finding clean clothes and getting into the shower, he heard Ducky arrive downstairs.

"Come on in, Duck, DiNozzo's gone to take a shower, he should be down shortly. Have a cup of something while you're waiting. I was just going to start breakfast, Tony said he wanted tea, I was going to make him some of the tea you left here."

"Oh, that would be lovely, I've been doing battle with mother's primary care physician over one of her medications, we finally got it sorted out, and then the pharmacy was backlogged, I had to wait nearly an hour."

He handed his overcoat to Gibbs who merely draped it carefully over the back of a chair, and they headed for the kitchen.

"So how is Anthony this morning, he must be feeling better if he wanted breakfast."

"Well, I don't know how much he's actually going to eat, I told him I make it and he could eat what he wanted. He got some decent sleep and said his throat didn't feel like some Saint Bernard had – nevermind, he said it's just sore now, not real raw like it has been."

"Oh, that's excellent, it means the antibiotics are doing their job, he will be back on the job before we know it."

"Have a seat, I'll put the water on. Same cup you usually use?"

"Yes, please." Ducky replied, settling himself into a chair at the little kitchen table, and waited for Gibbs to get breakfast started and his tea made before saying any more. The M.E watched fascinated, as his friend prepared his tea, following the prescribed steps that Ducky had insisted on if he were to drink tea at the Gibbs residence. There would be absolutely no mircrowave tea for him; if Gibbs were too busy to make it properly for him, he would simply make his own or have nothing at all. This morning, his friend seemed the perfect host, even after what Ducky could only assume had been a fitful night.

Gibbs set the cup and saucer and a small teapot filled with piping hot Earl Grey tea in front of Ducky, along with milk and sugar, and then sat down in the chair across from him.

" Don't have any cream, just milk. So, what do you want to talk about?"

The older man smiled, not surprised that Gibbs had read his face and body language.

"Well, as long as you are the one who inquired, I must ask you how your evening went with Anthony, and if you were both able to find some decent sleep."

"We got off to a rocky start, but -"

"Really? How so?"

"Well, he was miserable, Duck, and you know how kids are when they – how he is when he's sick, he wants attention but he wants you to leave him the hell alone. It's a constant battle knowing how much is enough and how much is too much. By the time it's too much, we're both pissed at each other."

"I see." Ducky answered quietly, taking a sip of the hot liquid. "So when did it get to be too much?"

"When he made a joke about parachuting. Guess I over-reacted a little, still remember how I felt when he got pitched out of that plane and I expected to have to scrape him off the cold hard ground. He got upset cause I got snarky about it. Wanted Abby to come get him, then couldn't get a hold of her. I apologized, he told me he was scared of having to go back to Bethesda, I told him I knew that he was, but I didn't think he'd have to. We had some dinner, later on when he couldn't sleep I gave him a glass of Macallen 18."

"Jethro..." Duck harrumphed an admonishment.

"Not gonna apologize, Duck, got him to sleep, he stayed sleeping long enough to feel better when he got up a while ago. He needed sleep more than anything, part of why he got sick. I've been pushing him, this is the result."

Ducky could hear at least a modicum of guilt in Gibbs' statement, and was hard put to deny it, but he knew this wasn't all the team leader's fault.

"Well, perhaps it is in a round about way, but you had no choice in the matter, those cases needed immediate and constant attention, and there is no way Anthony would have let you sideline him while they were being investigated. It is a hazard of the job, just as getting injured or shot by a suspect. He will recover just fine, and perhaps you will get some time in between cases where he doesn't have to be worn to a raveling and he can build his stamina up a bit more from the original illness. It's not been that long, Jethro, he really hasn't had time to build up to full strength from it. Perhaps I can find a vitamin regimen that will help raise his immunity levels. I can do nothing, however, about lowering your case load."

He took a longer drink of the now cooled tea, and Gibbs left the table to start preparing some breakfast.

"I made things harder for him than I needed to on this, and never told him why, _couldn't _tell him why."

"And that was...?"

"He kept doing things – not on purpose, he didn't even know, Christ, how _could _he? He kept reminding me of Kelly, and I kept blaming him for it. Then when I knew he was _really _sick I got - "

"Frightened?"

"Terrified, Duck. The first time, I couldn't stop it, didn't know it was even happening 'til it was too late. This time, felt like I caused it, felt like – I wasn't keeping track of him close enough. He never said a word to me, Duck, but he had to have bee getting sick for a while for it to have gotten to this level. I just wish he would let me know when things aren't right with him."

"Yes, of course, Jethro, just as _you _are so forthcoming with what you perceive as your weaknesses. There is a _reason _some people refer to him as Jethro Junior."

"_Who _calls him that?" Gibbs turned round, an amused look on his face.

"Oh, no one in particular. Tobias Fornell. Director Morrow. The notorious Mike Franks."

Gibbs chuckled to himself, going back to stirring the pancake batter.

"Don't think he'd appreciate the reference, Duck, better keep that to yourself."

"Oh, I do believe he has already heard it, and odd as it may sound to you, he seems quite proud of the moniker."

"Hmmm." was Gibbs' only response, leaving the M.E to merely wonder what the man was actually thinking, but he didn't have to wait long for the actual answer. "Not what I signed up for when I brought him back from Baltimore."

"Well, I dare say, Jethro, as fascinated with you as he was when he followed you home, I'm quite certain _he _had no intention of becoming Jethro Junior, or anyone _else's _Junior, for that matter, I'm sure he had more than his fill of trying to live up to his real father's impossible expectations."

"You think I expect too much of him, Duck?"

"I think.." Ducky hesitated, trying to choose his words carefully. "I think that there are times when his eagerness to please you over-rides his sense of self-protection. I'm not insinuating he became ill because of it, I believe it would have happened regardless – just that perhaps you could – let him know in small ways that his hard work is being noticed and appreciated, so he won't be continuously trying to out-do himself, _and _Caitlin. He may see her as an older sister, but only means they're open to sibling rivalry."

"Like I said, Duck, not what I signed up for, just wanted a good team to work with for a change."

"And that you do have, along with a young man who is in dire need of a mentor at the very least, and someone who has his best interests at heart; not a terrible burden, really, especially when he has so very much to give back in return for it."

"I'll keep that in mind, Duck; it's not that I begrudge him that, he just tends to open old wounds without even knowing it, and I lose my perspective."

"Well, if I find you backsliding, I'll – ahh, here you are, Anthony!" Ducky declared as Tony made his way into the kitchen. "Yes, Jethro is right, you _do _look better, perhaps I should prescribe Macallen 18 to you more often!" He winked at Tony, who let out a barely audible groan. "Not to worry, my boy, Jethro confessed that it was entirely his idea. Here, sit down, let me take your temperature and have a look at your throat. I brought my bag, sit tight while I retrieve it, it's right on the foyer table."

Moments later the M.E was back with his leather doctor's satchel, and shining a small light into Tony's mouth, who struggled not to squirm and squeak from the discomfort.

"There there, almost done, I know that it's painful." Ducky reassured, as if he were talking to a small child. "Quite right, not as inflamed as last time I look, the antibiotics seem to have taken hold and are doing their job splendidly. Be sure to continue with them, you are not allowed to stop them merely because you are feeling better." He looked over to Gibbs to make sure the man understood him even if Tony didn't, and Gibbs nodded his head in acknowledgement. "Your fever also seems to be down, no doubt from the sleep and ibuprofen. I would, however, recommend more of the same, preferably without the aid of single malt. Let's leave that for celebrations and emergencies, please."  
"Sure, Ducky." Tony rasped, still not quite over the M.E's probing of his sore throat. "There is something to be said for its medicinal qualities, though, I don't remember my father ever having a cold or the flu."

Ducky smiled sadly at him and patted his arm.

"Well, perhaps that is why Jethro never takes ill, but his liver may have something _else _to say about it."

He put away the thermometer and took out his stethoscope, ordering Tony to breathe in and out at intervals while a nervous Gibbs pretended not to hover in the background. "Hmmm. Yes. They could sound better, but none of that wheezing I heard from you the other day. Again the antibiotics at work, wonderful things that they are." He put the listening device away and closed up the bag. "Which brings me back to what I was saying before. Have you taken your morning one yet?"

"He was just about to take it with breakfast, I told him to take a shower first." Gibbs chimed in, before the man could cause a fuss over Tony's pill-taking record.

"Very well, then, I'll leave it to you to assure that he does." he stated, picking up his doctor's bag. "I'll stop by later this evening if you would like, but honestly, he seems to be progressing just fine."

"Don't stop by unless you're coming to dinner, Duck, which you know you're welcome to. Otherwise, we'll be fine."

"Well, I may take you up on it, but I do have a rather busy day ahead, so I may just go home and relax in front of the fireplace when it's over. Don't be afraid to phone if you should need me, and see that he eats something other than soggy toast or he will certainly have a relapse." Ducky lectured, then grabbed his hat and coat and headed for the door.

"Thanks, Ducky. 'ppreciate it."

"You are more than welcome, Anthony, and you should rest your throat, just because it feels better does not mean you are not still doing it damage by speaking. Drink lots of liquids and open it only to eat and drink. Juice or tea, only. Oh, I almost forgot, I brought a bottle of Mallard Miracle Elixir, I'll leave it on the table here, you can take some after breakfast after you take your antibiotic."

"Oh. Sure, okay. If it's good for Abby, then it must be good for me, right?"

"Right, Anthony." Ducky beamed, pleased that the young man remembered the miracle cure and that he was willing to take it. "Alright then, you two behave yourselves, Anthony, you stay out of the basement and away from the sawdust and fumes, that includes Jethro's paint thinner disguised as bourbon."

"Got it, Ducky. Bye!"

Gibbs ushered the older man out, and Tony collapsed onto the couch, exhausted from the work of taking a shower and then enduring the M.E's intense scrutiny and instructions.

"Stay there, I'll let you know when breakfast is ready. I'll bring you some tea while you're waiting."

"Can I have hot cocoa instead, Boss? Ducky didn't say I couldn't have that."

Gibbs paused in his step, and turned to his sickly house guest, who was lying on his stomach, arms wrapped around a bed pillow. With a jolt, his mind went back in time to another youngster who used to do the same thing when she was sick, and would only drink hot cocoa with marshmallows when she had a cold.

"Yeah, sure, I've got some that Abby brought last night. Think I may even have some marshmallows somewhere."


End file.
